


VILE

by IckyIcky



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical The Beholding Content (The Magnus Archives), Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Painful Sex, Power Dynamics, Self-Harm, Trans Jon, Workplace Sex, sex as self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IckyIcky/pseuds/IckyIcky
Summary: There's more than one way to skin an Archivist.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	VILE

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: This was written as catharsis for my personal shitty experiences and it is not intended as a kink. I am giving this information so that readers can know what they are getting into and can tread cautiously.
> 
> CW: using sex as self harm, other form of self harm mentioned (cutting), abuse of power in workplace, explicit sex scene, implied mild mind control, someone being watched without their knowledge or consent, body negativity, mention of past chaste touching that it is unclear if consensual

Jon watched through the window of the door to the Institute library, his hair pushed back so he could see the university student better. It was late. She probably thought she was the only one still in the Institute. She hadn’t noticed him, so Jon took his time becoming intimately familiar with the way she bit at her nails till they bled, her frustration as she searched through pages and pages of strange happenings, and her brown eyes that were heavy with impatient desperation. He pressed himself against the hard wooden door. _ She’s seen something _ . His body ached. Her life trickled into Jon as he began to Know her. 

_ She had lied to the librarian to be allowed to stay late. Said she was a history student finishing her thesis when in actuality she’s a computer science major. She’d also lied to her dad, said she was too sick to meet for dinner, even though he’d driven nearly an hour to come see her. She wants answers. She wants to know what-  _ Jon tore his eyes off the young woman and walked away, but he continued to  _ see _ her.  _ She’s looking over pictures of hard-faced resurrection men right now. She’s so far from understanding. _

Jon picked at the scabs on his arm that he’d given himself the other day. As the days grew hotter it became harder to wear long sleeves, and Martin had noticed the new notches in Jon’s skin.  _ Why can’t he just leave me alone? _ Jon still had the pocket knife on him. Prentiss, Michael, Jude, Daisy, his flesh was already a catalog. Still, mangled as he was, if he kept this up it wouldn’t be just Martin who noticed.  _ Elias would also- _ Jon winced, thinking of Elias’s gaze. His wince turned into a grimace as John felt the incompleteness of his body as he drew further away from the student.

_ These episodes are getting more frequent, aren’t they.  _ Jon tried to shut her out, but she scraped at his insides.  _ It’s been there since she was a child. She’s been good at convincing herself otherwise. Until now. Now she’s- Stop. I need to stop. This isn’t right.  _

He pulled out some strands of hair from in front of his face, barely feeling a stirring of pain. His body struggled to exist as he dragged it through the empty hallways. He just wanted the ache to be gone. 

_ Did Elias put her here? Is THIS what that bastard wants?  _ Jon shuddered, thinking of the way Elias always put his hand on Jon's back when he made a request and the smile he gave after Jon completed it.  _ Well, I could always go see Elias.  _ It wasn’t the first time he’d had the horrid idea, and Jon was tired. 

He heard his phone buzz. It was Martin, offering to drop off some food at the Institute. Jon rubbed his eyes in frustration. _That’s not what I need._ He turned his phone off and forced the message out of his mind. 

Jon found himself at the door to Elias’s office. The light was still on. _ Does he ever leave? _ Jon reached for the doorknob, but paused.  _ God, why am I here? Am I really going to…  _

“Come in Jon,” Elias called, alleviating Jon from the weight of his choice.

Jon came in like a wisp.  _ What am I even going to say to him? I mean... I guess he’ll Know. _

“You wanted me, Jon?” His boss lifted his head from the huge paper spreadsheet in front of him. Jon shivered, hating the way their eyes always instantly met no matter how much of Jon’s hair obscured his face.

“I...um...” 

Elias perked up. “Oh, I see.” He chimed smugly as the bile in Jon’s stomach rose. He carefully folded up his spreadsheet and stood up from his desk. Jon dreaded every step he got closer.

“You  _ wanted  _ me.” He said through a foul half smile. 

Jon nodded undecidedly. 

Elias pushed a hand up against the door and closed it gently so that they were almost chest to chest. He leaned in close. Jon stood his ground. Elias looked Jon up and down and stretched his smile. Jon exhaled an annoyed sigh.

“Oh, come now. Do you never have fun, Jon?” 

Elias grabbed Jon’s hips hard and brought them to his. Jon let out a pathetic gasp. He lifted up Jon’s shirt and crawled his hands over Jon’s chest and abdomen, tracing every scar. Jon kept eye contact as a weak attempt at maintaining pride. Elias held his gaze with sharp eyes. His hands were rougher than he expected and felt cold against Jon’s mangled, soft abdomen. He raked his fingers along the thin skin over Jon’s rib cage, which had become more prominent in the last few months as his desire for food grew duller. Elias pressed his fingertips over each of Jon’s bones like an archeologist putting together a new species. He began to lean his face closer, but Jon put his hand up. Elias paused and looked at Jon with strained patience.  _ I never said I was going to kiss him. _ Jon got to his knees on the cool marble floor of the office. With shaky hands he fumbled with Elias’s belt buckle, feeling his own stomach churn. Elias politely helped him and took out his member. Jon tentatively held it and took it in his mouth. He began to bob his head back and forth lightly, filling his mouth with hot and sour flesh. 

Elias took himself out of Jon’s mouth, and Jon made a small sound of surprise. A glob of spit left Jon's tongue and fell down his lip, dripping to his chin.  _ This is foul.  _

Elias lifted Jon’s chin up with his finger so their eyes could meet again. 

“You're not very good at this.” 

Jon felt his face get hot, embarrassed and disgusted with himself. He didn’t know what he was doing. He’d gathered little from reluctantly hearing Tim brag about his escapades.

Elias cupped his face with tenderness that felt like a trap. “What do you want, Jon?” 

“T-to have...” Jon felt the shame block him from finishing the sentence. Was Elias really asking him to say this?

“Jon. You know what I mean.” 

He felt the desire to tell Elias creep at the sides of his mind. Was Elias  _ making  _ him say this? 

“I want... I want a distraction. Anything. I don’t care if it hurts me. I’m so tired.” Jon tried to look away but Elias tilted his head so that their eyes stayed locked. “I’m tired in a way that rest can’t heal. I want to do things... I want to hurt people.” 

“Tell me more, Jon.” Elias spoke with sympathy so false it hardly seemed like he was trying. Jon still continued. 

“The girl in the library… I want… I want to see her fear… I want to  _ know  _ it. I want her to know it too. I want it to live on in both of us like some sort of immortal parasite. Please don’t make me do that. Please... Help me...” Jon felt the words dissected out of his throat. 

Elias looked. Not with impatience or disappointment, but with intrigue.

Elias took his hand and eyes off of Jon. He felt his body crumple under its own weight as he was released. Elias gestured for him to get up, and Jon clumsily managed to do so. Elias cleared a few things from his desk, waving Jon over. The Archivist felt rough hands on his hips again as he was placed on the desk.

“This’ll probably be better then fucking on the floor.” Elias said through that same smile.

“Yes...I suppose so.” Jon answered back weakly. 

Elias looked at him expectantly, but Jon was unsure of what he was expecting.

“Ah yes, I forgot you don’t normally do this, or ever do this for that matter. Well, this is the part where we typically take off our clothes.”

Jon nodded, thankful to not have to think or be in control of his actions. He took off his shoes and socks first, then his shirt, then his slacks, then his underwear. He moved methodically, taking off his clothes as he normally did before bed. He tried to make it clear he wasn’t going to give some sort of strip tease, but he got the feeling that this was even more exciting to Elias; the entire time, he watched Jon like he was looking at a specimen under a microscope. Jon felt cold. Elias took off the bottom half of his clothes, but left on his shirt and blazer. 

“This jacket is a pain to iron. I figure you won’t mind?”

_ Ass. _ Jon thought to himself, but he wasn’t wrong. The amount of dressed or undressed Elias wouldn't really make a difference. 

Elias pressed himself close and Jon felt the silk button-up against his bare skin. Jon readied himself to stop his boss from kissing him again, but his face pressed past Jon’s lips and instead reached his ear. Elias began stroking himself. 

“Do you want me inside you?” 

Jon felt sick.

“Yes... c-can you...” he felt the bile turn in his stomach again “can you put it in my front?” the words came out of him like heinous vomit. “I’ve had a hysterectomy and I-“

“I know, Jon.” 

Elias pulled his head back to look at Jon. He pushed back Jon’s hair to see his face better, and Jon suddenly found himself even more exposed. Elias continued to stroke himself with one hand as the other traced the bags under the archivist's eyes. 

“You really are exquisite.” Elias said with a spark in his gaze. 

He slowly pushed himself into Jon, and Jon gasped through a wince. 

“It’ll be easier if you're physically aroused.” Elias informed him. 

“A-Ah sure. Do that.” 

Jon leaned back to lie down on the desk in an attempt to get more comfortable. He stared at the decorative stucco ceiling.  _ Tacky.  _

Jon felt Elias begin to press his fingers to rub him. The roughness of Elias’s hands were unpleasant, but he went at the exact rhythm and pressure that was comfortable for Jon. 

_ Of course he knows. Pervert.  _

Jon traced the patterns of fruits and vines on the ceiling with his mind as Elias touched him, then closed his eyes tight as Elias began carefully pushing in and out of him. It still hurt, but it was more bearable now. He took deep breaths through his mouth, hating the way that he could hear his breath hitch every time Elias went particularly deep. He began wondering about how to look into the most recent statement, pulling up a mental list of Institute contacts he’d have to reach out to.  _ Maybe Martin could-. _ Christ, why was he thinking of Martin now?

_ How would he feel? Knowing I’m doing this instead of letting him buy me a cheap burger? _ Jon felt as if his whole body was rotting.

Jon abruptly opened his eyes and propped himself up on the desk so he could see Elias. Their eyes met. He felt the rot crawling deeper as he realized Elias had never looked away. 

“Go faster.” Jon requested.

“Are you sure?” 

Jon nodded. He wanted this to be over. 

Elias grabbed Jon’s waist and began spearing into him. He handled Jon more firmly, not necessarily rougher but in a more matter of fact way, as if Jon were a finicky tool.

Jon tried to steady his breathing, but couldn’t help gasping every so often from the pain. He kept his eyes on Elias’s hands, mapping the viens, trying not to let his mind wander again. Elias in turn kept his eyes on Jon. He wondered if Elias had blinked during this entire encounter. Jon was trying to avoid their gazes meeting, but Elias took Jon’s chin and tilted his face towards his own. Jon saw his eyes glint with excitement as they looked into him. 

“I’m close.” 

The words came as a relief to Jon. 

“C-Come in me?” Jon requested meekly.  _ Someone might as well enjoy this wretched body _ .

Elias obliged, injecting Jon with a hot poison, never taking his eyes off the Archivist. It was over. 

Elias pulled himself out, and Jon could smell both their mess coming from inside him. As Elias’s body left Jon’s he could feel a chill against his wet thighs, and he realized just how dirty he’d become. 

Elias walked behind the desk while Jon was still taking some time to absorb what had happened. He heard the opening of a desk drawer and Elias walking back around. Jon felt something soft being placed on his leg, and looked: a handkerchief. A nice one. Elias was wiping off Jon’s inner thigh. He cleaned him with the attention and carefulness of a restorationist handling valuable painting. When his thighs were dry Elias gracefully pulled out another handkerchief from his pocket. This one Jon recognized; it had Elias’s name hand stitched into it. He cleaned Jon’s inside. Jon flinched as it stung briefly, but then he went so gently that Jon wondered if he was really inside him at all. 

“This is vile.” Jon breathed through exhausted lungs. 

Elias smiled at Jon and continued to empty him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my friend Pat who acted as an editor for me and spent multiple hours letting me ramble about Jon. 
> 
> Also, thank you to [ TheFableFolks ](https://twitter.com/TheFableFolks), [ Ren](https://twitter.com/renmakes), and [entropically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entropically) for beta reading for me!


End file.
